Page 22 of Ozma

Mombi was dead. But so was Jack. Ozma let out a choked sob and rushed to Jack’s side. Beads of perspiration lined his brows, his hair damp and skin pale. Even his freckles seemed faded.

All around her, plants had sprung up, grown in size, like nothing she’d ever seen before, not even at the pumpkin patch where only the crop grew unnaturally fast. Whatever it was had come from Jack, his outstretched hand.Magic. But how?

Ozma couldn’t think straight as she shook his shoulders. “Damn it, Jack, come on! Wake up, so you can say you don’t trust me again. Wake up, so I can tell you how much I love you!”

Jack’s eyes remained closed as she pressed her palm to his chest.Thump thump. Thump thump.His heart beat rhythmically against her hand, his chest gently rising. A soft groan escaped his lips, but his lids stayed shut. Had he broken out of a curse, the way she had? She’d always assumed Jack didn’t have magic, but in the dark place she’d wondered if Mombi had done something nefarious to him too. And she’d been right.

Screams exploded from the wagon behind her. She whirled around to the dozens and dozens of sprites locked in iron cages. Their bright wings were unable to flap with the tight fit of how many Mombi had shoved inside together.

The enclosed wagon was light blue, and a curving arch accentuated it, while the front was painted maroon, with gold flowers and emerald vines crawling up its length. A gray stag stood harnessed to the wagon, appearing ready to lead it if commanded.

“Mombi carries the key on her,” a female sprite, with light pink hair, chirped, pointing in the direction of the witch. “In her left pocket.”

Ozma peered up at the darkening sky—night would be falling soon. Too soon. The blue light tracking Mombi had vanished once Jack ended the witch’s life. She’d secretly hoped that the Wizard would’ve been there too. It would be impossible to perform another location spell because she had nothing of his. But one dead was better than none.

Pulling the dagger from her waist, Ozma held it up as she padded toward Mombi. She would free the trapped sprites, then get Jack loaded in the wagon so she could bring him home before figuring out a plan to find the Wizard. It was lucky that Mombi had been so close, but they couldn’t risk staying on the farm for much longer. Not when the Wizard could come looking for the dead witch.

The grass still cocooned Mombi’s body—or what was left of it. All her limbs had been ripped away, the ground soaked in scarlet. Ozma lifted her blade and swiped a clean line down from the top of the witch’s head to her navel. Mombi’s bloodshot eyes stared blankly up at the sky. She hadn’t gotten to kill her, but she pierced her weapon through Mombi’s heart anyway and released a scream of her own. “Youbitch!” One melancholic cry that spoke of despair over missed opportunities, a life that could have been more for her, for Jack. Then she slammed her hand across the dead witch’s cheek like Mombi had done to her so many times.

Tears slid down Ozma’s cheeks and she brushed them away. She wiped the blood from her dagger on Mombi’s tattered dress, then placed it back at her waist. A raised outline of an object in the left pocket, over Mombi’s breast, caught her eye. Ozma fished out the silver key.

She walked back to the wagon, stopping at the first iron cage. “Tell me,” Ozma asked the pink-haired sprite, “do you know which direction Mombi came from, and where the Wizard is staying?”

“She journeyed from the seaport after going to Orkland. That’s where he is.” The sprite paused and shook her head. “But you don’t want to go to Orkland. Everyone there is under an enchantment, doing what the Wizard orders.”

Ozma remembered the maps Jack drew of the places outside Loland. Orkland was an island, not too far from here. Just go through Hiland and sail across. She could feel the correct path in her veins but not where the port was along the sea.

“I have to go.” Ozma shrugged. Of course Oz wouldn’t be in Loland anymore. “Which way leads to the seaport?” With a sigh, careful to avoid touching the iron, she unlocked each cage, one by one.

The sprite hesitated but rattled off the directions.

Loosening her shoulders, Ozma peered at Jack and hoped she could lift him into the wagon. Once they arrived back at the farm, she would have to gather more supplies and spells before heading to Orkland. She didn’t know if she would leave him there or if he would decide to come with her once he was awake. He had come with her to stop Mombi… She wasn’t going to sneak off again, and he’d earned the right to choose whether he wanted to accompany her or not. The truth was, she wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.

Ozma went to the wagon door and opened it. Something burst out, shoving her aside, and she let out a scream. A hobgoblin flopped to the ground as she caught herself. He rolled with a growl, dried blood caked around a half-missing ear. He got up to run, and tripped, his hands bound behind his back.

“Wait,” Ozma said. “I’ll untie you.”

The hobgoblin stopped and slowly turned around, eyeing her with suspicion. “She took my ear. Wanted my arms next.”

Ozma calmly nodded. “Not anymore. She’s dead.” Taking out her dagger, she walked toward him and cut the rope. “There, you’re free.”

“What do I owe you? Though I suppose, now that I’m unbound, it’s enough that I don’t eat you.” He cocked his head, staring at her like he wanted to rip out her heart and feast on it.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of his filthy hand thrusting inside her chest. She shook off the image, pulled back her shoulders, and motioned at Jack. “Help me put him in the wagon and I’ll consider it a fair trade.”

With a low grunt, the hobgoblin stumbled toward Jack and lifted his legs while Ozma hauled him under his arms. She was close to Jack’s height, but he still wasn’t light enough for her to carry.

Inside the wagon, mold permeated the air. Amidst dried herbs, was mostly empty space, aside from a stack of books in the corner and two baskets full of fruit, some rotten.

After they placed Jack on the floor, Ozma shut the door and the hobgoblin grunted again as he scurried off into the woods—most likely to find something to shred apart.

At the front of the wagon was a teal wooden plank to sit on with Mombi’s cloak sprawled out along the edge. Something hard poked at Ozma when she sank onto the cloak. Crinkling her nose, she tugged out a shiny red stone in the shape of a heart. “Strange.” If Mombi’d had it in her cloak, perhaps it could be useful. She shoved the stone into her satchel and tossed the cloak on the ground.

Grabbing the reins to the stag, she snapped them for the beast to go. The stag didn’t move.

“Oh, come on!” she screamed, the crescent moon already pushing up into the night sky. Nothing. The stubborn beast just sat there with its chin lifted.

From her satchel, Ozma took out a purple fruit, then hopped down to go to the stag. He leaned forward, his antlers almost brushing her face as he sniffed at the fruit, finally biting into it. Ozma quickly pulled her hand back, not allowing him another taste. “I’ll give you the rest once we get home.” A huff of air escaped his nostrils as she hopped back onto the plank, bringing down the reins once more.

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